


Liberati

by lastnameshirogane, lilacs_with_lavender



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination, Because I will never write another unhappy ending after s8, Blood and Violence, Dany is a bamf, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, Italian Renaissance, Jon Snow is a Stark, Jonerys, Jonerys Valentine's Week, Married Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Set in Renaissance Italia, Some Humor, Teasing, There’s a balcony scene but it’s reversed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastnameshirogane/pseuds/lastnameshirogane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacs_with_lavender/pseuds/lilacs_with_lavender
Summary: Jon Stark and Daenerys Targaryen are the heirs to powerful family fortunes in Sicily, a town full of intrigue, decadence, and oftentimes murder. The culprits are assassins of course, hailing from different houses and killing with a vengeance. And in a kill or be killed world Jon and Daenerys happen to fit this description.Their families are divided by land and a history of hate, the only way to fight each other through the assassins that represent their houses. They lurk in the shadows, finding their next victim, be it a hapless drunkard indebted to their family or a deadly enemy of an opposing house.One night when Daenerys is out on the prowl, Jon is assigned the same target as her. When their paths cross, will a surprising connection spark war? Or will the two star crossed assassins find peace among the chaos that is renaissance Italy?
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Grey Worm/Missandei, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 48
Kudos: 43





	Liberati

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Hope your day is going well so far, I’m sick and I have a presentation to do in about an hour so I am sTrEsSiNg just a lil ;)
> 
> But regardless of real-life misery, I'm so super excited to share the promised assassins creed au! I was honestly surprised at the amount of feedback I got when asking you guys if this was something you would read but plenty of lovely people responded so surprise! Here we are! 
> 
> And since I've been ridiculously busy with school + working on my remix fic + yes finally writing that business or pleasure update, my lovely bestie Nis has decided to help me with this one! She's a fantabulous writer and I'm so lucky to have her on board! A little intro we wanted to add in here is below bc you’ve gotta get to know the both of us obviously.
> 
> Hey yo my dudes, it's nis, not new to fanfics because I've been reading and writing since like 2016, just haven't gotten around to posting stuff on my account, but lovely liles asked me to co-create this badass fic and i was so down. With my college life and constant work I try to find a balance, but you know how it goes. I hope you guys enjoy this new fic!! Super excited to continue writing and working with her, she is so talented 🥰🌟♥️ and basically famous on here SOOO
> 
> Also I'm a huge Batman nerd, and this doesn't correlate to the story at all, but in the near future I'm thinking of doing some crossovers or some fics on my main man, so keep an eye out for those 😉
> 
> Feedback and comments are helpful for us and I look forward to hearing back from all you guys.
> 
> She’s too sweet! Until you hear from us next, enjoy this and leave some feedback below if you think a second chapter is something you'd enjoy! 
> 
> All our love,  
> Liles & Nis
> 
> P.S. Nis has a tumblr! Go give her a follow @darkknightandco <3

The moon was full and bright, a shining white beacon in the starless night sky, lending it’s light to both weary workers and late-night tavern goers. Daenerys was neither, and she turned her masked face to the sky with a scowl.

_Curse la Luna for her brightness on this night._

It did not do well for one in her line of work to be spotted on the adobe tiled roofs of this particular city. Young assassins that were caught never returned to their families, not even after the large bounties were paid. 

Keeping that thought in mind, the Targaryen heiress crouched low and kept behind the eaves of the tavern roof she had picked for her perch tonight. After all, if the information she had received was to be believed, then she might be lying in wait for hours. 

This particular man was no different than her usual targets; cared too much for women and good wine, made the mistake of borrowing money from her father, never paid him back, blah blah blah. There were many who stole from her family these days. 

_They all deserve death._

At least that’s what Dany told herself when she watched the life fade from their eyes, and their blood drain out into the already grimy streets of Sicily. Her home, no matter how much she denied or pretended otherwise, the nexus of greed and lust where she had been born twenty five years ago. 

It’s not like she could complain. She wanted for nothing… except a life outside Sicily’s walls. 

_Out of the question._

Daenerys knew it was an impossibility. Rhaella would understand her wish but Aerys would never allow it to come to fruition, not while the other great families still drew breath. 

The only thing ‘great’ about the wealthy families that controlled her city was just that, their wealth. The constant pull and push of fighting over small amounts of territory made her sick, and its effect on the city’s people made her sicker. Aerys had tried to hide it from her when she was a girl, but nothing could have prepared her for the poverty she witnessed on her first mission outside the villa. 

Missandei has consoled her of course upon her return, but Dany had never forgotten. The coin her parents gave her every moon or so was given almost instantaneously to an orphanage in the center of Sicily. The suffering she witnessed daily had tainted the world of luxury she had grown so accustomed to, the extravagant wealth of the great families now seeming absolutely wasteful in its decadence. 

Frowning at the thought of her family’s part in it all Daenerys shook her head slightly, the predatory part of her recognizing now was not the time to lament the over indulgent lifestyle of Sicily’s upper class. 

When she glanced back down the tavern door below banged open and shut for the hundredth time that night, however the drunken mongrel that left was of more importance than the last twelve. Though their appearances were all similar, this man sported a distinctive sapphire encrusted dagger at his hip, the weight of the flashy weapon nearly dragging his breeches down as he staggered into an alleyway. 

_Perfect._

She stood over the alley, her shadow casting a menacing shadow on the opposite wall as she watched the drunkard from her perch. The man stumbled to a stop and threw up, his retching masking the tinkling of adobe tiles as Daenerys leapt from the rooftop, arms spread wide. She stuck the landing in a crouch, the blade at her wrist flicking out with an audible metal screech. 

Her target stumbled around, his senses apparently not as dull as she had assumed, his murky brown eyes going wide as saucers. She leapt on top of him before he could run, knocking him to the ground easily and watching as her blade found its home in his dirty throat. Grimacing underneath the red embroidered mask that covered her mouth, Daenerys wiped and sheathed her hidden blade, stepping back and watching as the wastrel coughed and sputtered on his own blood. 

Looking down at the dying man was difficult but as usual she forced herself to feel no remorse. 

_This man stole from my family._

“House Targaryen grew tired of waiting.”

That was all she said, and the man’s eyes briefly widened in recognition before the life fled from them completely and his blood painted the nearby cobblestones red. Dany bent and placed two gold dragons over each closed eyelid, taking a moment to admire her handiwork afterwards. 

She then took whatever coin he had, searching his boots and pockets for coppers he no doubt plundered from others. But just as she grasped a small leather sack in the toe of his boot, a burnt orange roof tile smashed at her feet. 

Dany shoved the money into a pouch at her hip, glancing up and around for the quickest exit. She knew what that smashed tile meant. Someone not quite as skillful as her had been watching, for how long she could only guess. 

Seeing a large rose covered lattice across from the alley as her only option the Targaryen assassin strode across the moonlit street as quickly and quietly as possible. The climb was painful to say the least, and she had no doubt she’d be picking thorns off her cloak for the next few weeks. But there was nothing for it, _no one_ could capture her, she would not allow it to happen. 

When she reached the lip of the house’s balcony however, she had to withhold a groan of annoyance. The one who had been following her (or attempting to anyway) was waiting, but not exactly in the most threatening way. The man was leaning against the opposite wall in apparent disinterest, picking at some unseen dirt under his nails. 

Daenerys watched him warily, her violet eyes darting between her thorn riddled gloves and his seemingly relaxed figure. She started to pick the thorns out of the supple red leather, silently lamenting each small hole left behind. These were her favorites gods damn it. She turned her annoyance on the stranger whose face was still hidden underneath a low hanging hood.

“You made me ruin my favorite gloves.”

He chuckled softly and looked up from his _oh-so_ interesting nails, the moonlight still not showing her his face as he replied. 

“There was a perfectly rose free lattice on the other side you know.”

Dany frowned, something about his voice was _off_ she couldn’t place his accent. But when he pushed off from the wall and strode closer to her she finally got a good look at him.

He was an assassin. She should’ve realized earlier but the hood and pouch belt were a clear giveaway. Dany knew that his cloak probably hid daggers and whatever other choice weapons he preferred but she couldn’t spot his sigil pin in the shadowy moonlight. 

“I really should thank you for taking care of my target,”

She smirked, _so that’s why he’s here._

“But I won’t because your execution could use some work.” 

She blinked. 

“Excuse me-”

Daenerys stopped short, a gust of wind causing her to tuck her hood closer to her hair. The stranger however didn’t seem to care, the breeze sweeping his hood back as he took a seat on the balcony’s edge. The moon’s insufferable bright light cast his face in it’s glow and Dany looked with mounting apprehension as he turned back to her. 

She had never regretted an action more immediately. 

He was… attractive. She hated her womanish mind for thinking it but just looking at him caused a blush to creep up her cowl. He was also looking right at her, his eyes a strange dark grey color and his mouth quirked in a slight smirk. The thing that surprised her most however was that he was _young,_ around her age even. 

Which meant one thing.

“You’re an heir.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. The only assassins that were as young as her and dressed in such fine leather were heirs to the great families. 

He stayed silent and she studied his profile for a moment longer, the dark beard and mop of artfully ruffled hair paired with his strange voice now made sense.

“You’re a Stark.”

The stranger shifted, seemingly uncomfortable with how much she had guessed about him from his face alone.

_Good._

“You’re incredibly annoying.”

Her mask of indifference slipped a little.

“Me?! You’re the one who followed me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the action only ruffling her further. 

_Why are the assholes always so attractive?_

“I only followed you to tell you that your technique needs work, I’m honestly trying to help if you think about it.” 

She scoffed under her mask, glaring at him. “Well I don’t need tips from someone who failed to even try and hit their target.” 

The way his unfairly full lips seemed frozen permanently in a smirk was now quickly pissing her off. 

“You know I can only see those gorgeous purple eyes of yours but you seem to not agree with me.”

Daenerys was fully done with this stranger’s insulting teasing, she was the heiress to the Targaryen family! How dare he?! The Starks were pitiful in their power, preferring to hold high moral values instead of large amounts of land.

“If anyone needs work it’s you, I could have killed you as soon as that roof tile landed at my feet.” 

He waved a hand dismissively,

“That was on purpose.”

She laughed incredulously, her hood almost falling off at the _audacity_ of this man! 

“Ah yes of course, the almighty Stark assassin never does anything unless it’s for a reason. Forgive me my lord I had forgotten.”

Dany had meant it to be mocking and sarcastic but of course the idiot before her raised an eyebrow at her word choice.

“My lord? You flatter me, I would call you a lady in return but even ladies kill with more precision and silence than you.”

That was enough of an insult for her to take her leave, and without even a backward glance she stalked away from the insufferable Stark.

But even after she had leapt from the balcony and ran across several more moonlit rooftops his teasing laughter followed her, the warm sound refusing to leave her head as she sprinted through the night.

**...**

She finally reached her room after leaping and bounding through the moonlight. It was dark everywhere except for where candles lit the shadows of the villa’s multitude of windows. Her hair got caught in the wind and her hood slipped off as she entered through an open window. She tiptoed along the floorboards, making sure not to step on the creaky ones, and silently closed the door to her bedroom. 

Letting out a small breath, she pulled off her mask and hung it on the inside of her closet. 

_I could fall asleep right now._

However, that wasn’t an option at the moment. She had to wash the mud and dirt out of her hair before the masquerade tomorrow. Her skin had to be as fair as the pages of an untouched book, and as soft as the beaches of Dragonstone. There would be no time to do anything with her parents constantly bothering her about how the family needed to be _perfect_. 

Her thoughts consisted of the Stark assassin and her family’s expectations as the water poured over her hair and onto her naked cold body. 

_How stubborn yet gorgeous. His eyes and lips were like daggers to the heart._

She tried to quiet her thoughts, as she knew her parents would never approve. They had other plans for her; things that were out of her control. It had always been like that, ever since she was old enough to walk. Her fight to become an assassin was long and arduous, but worth it in the end. At least she controlled a few things in her life. 

**...**

The sun made its presence known through his black satin curtains as he turned over to escape its glow. The bed was too warm to get out of, and his dreams of her striking violet eyes were far from over. 

_Che bellezza._

He couldn't stop dreaming now, not with her fiery self so ingrained in his memory. Last night was as unpredictable as the weather, and he wanted to follow her even after she had stormed off. 

It was uncanny that the Targaryen family had not only a talented assassin, but a gorgeous _female_ assassin. All the other houses were more drawn towards making their house assassins male because of tradition. History was always biased towards the males as assassins and then heirs, but the Targaryens, it looked like, had other plans. 

She had poisoned his thoughts so deeply that he almost forgot how to think about anything else, and Robb couldn’t have come at a worse time. 

“Time to get up Jon.” Robb said as he slammed his bedroom door open and walked towards the closed curtains. “We have a lot to do today.” 

“You say that every time, and every day there is absolutely nothing to fucking do around here.” Jon replied as he threw the covers over his face. 

All there was to do in the villa was eat, talk to Arya, sign papers, train, shit and then do it all over again. The process was tiring, and the only time he felt free was when no one was awake except him and the voices of the wind and breeze outside. 

“Well someone has an attitude this morning.” He yelled from the bathroom, starting the water for his morning bath. “Nothing good food and warm water can’t fix.” 

“Believe me, it’ll take more than that to put me in as good a mood as you are.” He rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the side of his silk covered bed. 

Every morning was so mundane, and no one seemed to get that. It was so dreary even as the sun was shining through every open _and_ closed window of the villa. His parents would always tell him how grateful he should be to have this villa because everyone else didn’t even have half of what they had. 

“Maybe a nice girl will whip you into shape.” Robb’s comment snapped him out of his trance and back into another. 

“Well that’s just the thing,” Jon mumbled to himself, “you ruined a perfectly good dream you idiot.” He finished as he slapped Robb upside of the head. “But I guess life goes on.” His feet slapped onto the tiles of the bathroom and he let the hot mist engulf his tired face. 

_But she really was perfect, and life could not go on._

“I can’t say a perfect woman is waiting downstairs for you, but brunch is a close second.” Robb said as he closed the door to the bedroom, leaving Jon with his wandering thoughts of women assassins and beautiful violet eyes. 

**…**

“Daenerys please make an effort to be civilised tonight. The houses don’t often gather like this and I don’t want to present my firstborn heir as an uncivilized killer, so just _try_ and be a lady today.”

Dany met Missandei’s eyes as she helped fasten the front ties of her dress, and rolled her eyes dramatically, miming the action of vomiting as her mother lectured just outside the lacquered dressing screen. 

Rhaella was just paranoid because last time they’d brought Dany to one of these soirées she had sulked at the bar for the entirety of the event. Effectively charming absolutely no one, much to her mother’s chagrin.

“Mrs. Targaryen we’re going to be doing Dany’s hair now, but I don’t want to ruin the surprise!”

Rhaella’s swishing skirts had been pacing back and forth frantically but at Missy’s words she paused.

“Right. Of course Missandei bring her royal highness down when she’s ready.”

Dany rolled her eyes again at her mother's sarcasm, brushing it off and turning to give her best friend a gracious smile.

“Grazie, my hero.”

Missandei grinned and laced up the back of the ridiculously sumptuous gown tightly. Dany wheezed a hand going to her stomach as she breathed out,

“That… huff… really n-necessary Missy?”

The tanner woman finished and spun Daenerys around like a doll, examining the fit and flair of her gown with an expertise that Dany could never dream of possessing. Maidservant since age ten, Missandei had been a gift from a wealthy family in England her father did business with briefly. 

Rhaella had hated the idea of owning a _slave_ , so right when Missy became of age Dany ensured she got the paid position of official seamstress to the Targaryens. It was a dream come true for her only real friend, but Daenerys despised the way she saw people look at Missandei and she dreamt often of a paradise where just the two of them lived and worked together, very far from Sicily and her family.

But then… that man from the other night made his presence amongst her thoughts known again, those beautiful but deadly grey eyes drifting in and out of Dany’s thoughts… and dreams.

“Alright, are you going to tell me who it is or do I have to ask?”

Daenerys blinked, realizing quite quickly that she was seated at her and Missy’s shared vanity, and that the woman herself was standing behind her with a hand on her hip and a hairbrush in the other. She met her friend’s caramel colored eyes uneasily.

_Merda. Why does she know me so well?!_

“Whatever do you mean?”

The brush that was combing her hair relentlessly slowed and Dany saw Missy’s smirk in the polished mirror before her.

“Oh nothing! Just that you’ve been staring off into space with dreamy eyes for the last few minutes and I want to know who’s causing our stone cold assassin to go soft?”

The Targaryen heiress frowned as the brushing ceased and Missy lithe fingers began to sift through her long silver hair. 

“No one. I was thinking of our paradise that’s all.”

That softened her friend for a moment and Missandei gave her a warm smile, before she went right back into interrogation mode. 

“At least tell me if it’s a he or she Dany.”

She scowled up at her friend in mock outrage.

“Missy that was one time!”

Her friend chuckled lightly.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of! I was just wondering!”

Daenerys tried to reach around and swat the smile off her face but Missy dodged her weak attempts easily.

“Don’t ruin the hair, I won’t be redoing it if your ungrateful arse messes me up.”

Huffing Dany stilled, waiting patiently so her friend’s magic hands could weave her hair into wondrous styles that the heir to the Targaryen fortune knew absolutely nothing about. Once Missy finished she could barely find the muddy, sweaty assassin that had returned late last night in her reflection… she looked-

“ _Bellissimo_ Dany, those paunchy merchants and bankers won’t even think you’re _real_!”

Daenerys grinned, she didn’t normally enjoy people describing her as ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ those words meant nothing of worth when compared to ‘ruthless’ and ‘deadly’... but today she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of her closest friend’s compliments. After all, if Missandei thought she looked good, then Dany was ready to take on a room full to bursting with people in sumptuous attire that secretly wanted to kill everyone there.

 _I am one of those people,_ she mused as Missy helped artfully drape a shawl around her shoulders and slip her feet into slim black satin flats. When the two women stood back to admire the completed look however, Dany could not help the sudden bout of sadness that overcame her.

“Daenerys Tempesta Targaryen do not tell me you don’t like it after I’ve slaved over you for the last-”

The curly haired young woman stopped her teasing when Dany’s arms wrapped around her waist tightly, her breathing a clear indicator that she was close to tears. Which was unacceptable of course, House Targaryen’s heir and assassin _never_ cried… except when with her closest confidante.

“I wish you could come with me, I _hate_ leaving you trapped here and being able to do nothing.”

Missandei’s hair smelled of the same exotic spices she combed into Dany’s, and the warm brown curls caught the few tears that escaped.

“Mio caro… you cannot blame yourself, I am already beyond lucky to live the life that I do.”

Before Daenerys could continue her lament however, the dreaded feminine shouts from downstairs signalled it was time to go, so she pulled away, not being able to meet her friend’s gaze. Missy as always knew her better than she knew herself and took her hand, squeezing it tightly before ushering her out of the bedroom with the usual calming words of departure. 

“The rest of them are nothing Dany, just sheep, you are a fierce draghessa. Remember that.”

The pink and orange sunset bathed her maidservant’s face in light as she smiled, every inch of her warm open expression a reminder that even if Daenerys failed to become what her parents begged her to be, she would never be alone. 

**…**

“Bloody hell, do I really have to wear this outrageous thing over my face?” He picked up the gray mask shaped like the face of a wolf that was ready to pounce. 

“Well it is called a masquerade Jon,” Robb replied as he pulled his suit-jacket off the rack of the closet. “I would let you go naked but I don’t think your father would approve.”

“That would honestly be a better option than this shite.” Jon snapped back quickly as he stepped up in front of the full body mirror. 

He looked _too_ posh and he didn’t like it. Most nights he didn’t care about where he was going or how he looked because he knew there would be drinking involved. However, this night felt different. There was something nagging at him subconsciously, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. 

Robb slipped the coat over his shoulders as he began to add the finishing touches to his outfit. The black slick pants wrapped nicely around his legs with a silver lining going up both sides, and a thick belt that stitched itself around his waist. That too had silver thread running across one side to the other. 

His shirt was tucked into his belt and the fabric hugged his lean yet formed figure. There were white frills that added personality to it, adding a little fun to Jon’s stoick outfit. Additionally, there were gold stitches added into the sleeves and buttons of the shirt, to indicate that they were one of the richest houses throughout Sicily.

“I look like a bloody pirate.” Jon said as he turned twice to make sure everything was in place. 

“Believe me when we’ve added the jacket and all the extra bits, you will look like the future lord of House Stark.” Robb helped him smooth out the jacket as it hugged his toned arms. 

“Gods you sound like Catelyn.” Jon rolled his eyes as if there was no tomorrow. “She never shuts up about my ‘future’ duties.” 

“I don’t think your stepmother would like to hear you talking about her that way.” Robb suggested, standing up from where he had been adjusting the newly added boots. “Regardless, how do you like it?”

Jon stared back at himself in the glimmering mirror. His jacket was a dark gray with black embroidered designs on the sleeves and those same designs traveled down the front of his jacket where the button met to close. It was a specimen of design. 

“I think everything looks great.” Jon said with a little more enthusiasm in comparison to when they started getting him dressed. 

“Put his hair up.” A voice came from behind him and Robb, but he could recognize that tone anywhere. 

Arya was leaning up against the doorframe of his room, holding a pair of gloves in her head as she glistened in a beautiful silk gray gown from head to toe. 

“We always love a good fashion statement from my little sister.” Jon said as he stepped down from the mirror and faced her. “But I don’t get why my hair is so important, it’s the clothes, not the hair that matters.” 

“Oh _fratello_ , if only you knew how much everyone in this city wanted your locks. I’ve heard it could feed up to five large households if it were sold in the market.” Arya responded. “That is why your hair must be up for tonight.”

“Fine, I’ll put it up, but only half of it.” Jon said as he grabbed a handful of his hair and wrapped it in a bun. The rest that was left sat under the bun he had just made and against the top of the collar of his shirt.

“Honestly, I think that looks better.” Robb said as he looked towards Arya. “I would say your brother is slowly learning how to act like a proper royal.”

“He’s getting there. Slowly.” Arya replied to Robb. She turned around and headed downstairs where almost everyone was waiting to leave. 

“I’m glad you’re not coming with me,” Jon said to Robb as he stopped admiring himself in the mirror and collected his belongings from the bedside table. “You’d just be correcting me on _everything_ I do. Just like Catelyn.” 

“You’ll thank me later Jon.” Robb replied, handing him his house rings and the various accessories that he had added to the outfit. “Maybe someone else will make fun of you tonight, some lucky lady or gentleman.” 

As soon as Robb said that, Jon snapped back to the memory of the violet-eyed Targaryen. 

_What if she was there tonight?_

“I guess you already have your mind set on someone?” Robb’s voice snapped Jon back to reality. 

“That is if she shows up tonight or not.” Jon tried to run his hand through his hair, but the bun stopped him from even trying to do so.

“You’re not joking,” Robb scratched at his beard, “I honestly thought you were joking.” 

“I don’t joke about beautiful women.” Jon said as he snatched his mask from Robb’s hands.

“So, which house?” He loved questioning Jon. It was either to make fun of his poor choices or to go tell the entire villa of some recent news. 

“Why do you care all of a sudden?” 

Jon started towards the door of his bedroom. He heard more voices downstairs getting louder with each step. 

“Really Jon, I’ve been with you since birth. I have a right to know.” 

He walked next to him as they both started down the long winding staircase. Their shoes ‘clicked’ against the wood of the panels and echoed throughout the corridors of the large house. 

“She’s House Targaryen.” 

They reached the end of the stairs. 

“You know how your stepmother would feel about that.” Robb said in response to hearing the name of the Targaryen house roll off Jon’s tongue. 

“That’s why she mustn’t know.” Jon patted Robb on the shoulder as Arya and their parents walked out before him. “This will be our little secret. That is until I tell Arya of course.” 

**…**

Robb just nodded in reply and saw Jon out. He didn’t know what to say. He saw how his friend’s eyes lit up when he said that house name, and that wasn’t even the girl’s name. Hopefully nothing too serious would come of it. 

**…**

“Can your dress get any bigger Arya?” Jon exclaimed with frustration as he swatted the dress out of his way and got out of the carriage. “I’m going to be breathing glitter for the rest of the night.” 

Arya rolled her eyes as she shoved his mask into his hands and placed hers on her face. Hers was almost the same as his, except it had more vivid features on it. Jon liked his better. 

They entered together with Ned and Catelyn close behind on their heels. Jon showed the doorman his family pin as they strode in and began to hear music playing everywhere.

It was breathtaking. 

The marble walls were covered in golden paintings of mythical creatures dancing with angels along the pillars that stood around the room. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, towering over the guests that had already begun to dance. It was magical. Jon was so enthralled that he almost missed the velvet carpet that covered the stairs. 

“Jon watch where you’re going. I don’t want to trip and fall like your date from last year.” Arya said as she yanked his arm under hers. 

“That was an accident.” Jon added, “Besides, it wasn’t _that_ bad.” 

Arya rolled her eyes and relieved him of his brotherly duties when they reached the bottom of the stairs. She floated across the ballroom floor as if she were born to be a royal and made her way to the table of guests that had caught her eye. 

Looking for a waiter who had a glass of champagne, Jon began to make his way through the crowd of oversized dresses and waistcoats that were too long for this ball. He noticed that everyone had a different looking mask. Some were too small to even be counted as a mask, and others were too feathery and big for this masquerade. 

“What bloody amateurs.” Jon said to himself as he finally spotted a waiter at the other end of the room. He was just thankful that his mask didn’t cover his mouth. 

He reached for the champagne glass, gave a small smile to the waiter and leaned up against the nearest pillar. The music was intoxicating. Even if someone didn’t like to dance, they would still want to be here. His eyes ran boredly over some family members from the Lannister and Baratheon houses, but before he could recognize any of the heirs the world seemed to stop turning.

She was there, coming down the shallow stone steps with effortless grace, her silver hair out in its full glory, the waist length waves trailing behind her. A red enamel mask covered the top half of her face, a ruby in its crown and a fringe of spikes along its edge. The mask matched her dress, the red fabric wrapped around her shoulders and bodice, spilling out onto the marble. In the glimmering chandelier light she was even more beautiful than the night they had met, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. 

When she floated to the small stone bar his legs began to move of their own accord, something positively magnetic drawing him towards her. When he reached her, however, Jon quickly realized he wasn’t the _only_ man enamored by her presence. Already, there was one pompous idiot who was holding her hand tightly. His lips covered the enamel ring she wore and his fingers caressed the elegant bracelet that hung from her wrist. Jon despised him on sight.

The taller man turned when Jon stepped up to the bar, eyeing him with the distasteful look most of the heirs bestowed upon him, the most recent addition to their ranks, the Starks were considered _lesser_.

“Well if it isn’t the _White Wolf_ himself! My lady, don’t linger with this one too long, you deserve less brutish company.”

The silver haired assassin gave him a mischievous look as her violet eyes twinkled from behind the ornate dragon-like mask. She withdrew her hand from the golden haired man’s grasp and smiled tightly.

“I can choose my own company, thank you Jaime.”

_Ah that sly Lannister bastard._

He should’ve known the man from his gold mask and decadent outfit, his usual smirk displaced by the heiress’s subtle rejection. It satisfied something savage within Jon, watching him walk back to the dance floor alone.

“You’re a very elusive man, the _White Wolf_ was it?”

She was eyeing him curiously, her indignance and annoyance from the previous night completely gone. But he flinched at the chosen nickname, bestowed upon him because he preferred to avoid the majority of these high society events. 

“Just Jon is fine. And you are?”

The mystery woman smiled at the admission of his true name, turning to the barkeep and ordering some unintelligible exotic wine, before turning back to him with an imperious look on her regal face.

“Daenerys Tempesta Targaryen. What an honor it is to meet the elusive heir to the Stark family fortune.”

Jon was regaining his confidence back by the minute, her teasing putting him at ease albeit making him a tad suspicious. 

“That’s one hell of a name, I think I’ll just call you Dany if it’s all the same to you.”

She blinked and he congratulated himself for catching her off guard, this exotic unreal woman that seemed to know everything. Then again his mind imagined the muddy, thorn covered, and very much pissed off assassin from the night before and he couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“What? Are you proud of your little nickname _Jon?”_

He laughed again trying to ignore what the sound of his name on her lips did to him, the annoyance seeping into her tone just making the memory sharper. 

“No not at all my lady, just admiring how well you clean up…”

He watched as she bristled and sipped her drink, in all honesty he thought she was gorgeous either way. But _Daenerys_ didn’t need to know that. 

“Don’t get used to it. Although I could say the same about you.”

Jon smiled then, really smiled.

“Don’t get used to it Dany.”

She laughed, a nervous sound that dusted her cheeks pink with… blush? There was no way this woman was actually- “Do you dance Jon?”

_Oh she most definitely is flirting._

But when he gave the dance floor a glance and saw Robb and Arya so at ease he had to wince. “Not usually…”

But Daenerys was already up, linking her arm with his and practically dragging him towards the swirling mass of skirts. “Well you’ll make an exception for me. Right Jon?”

She turned back to him with wide violet eyes and full lips and _gods how could he say no?_ “Sure…”

Her smile was dazzling and for a moment he almost forgot he was being led to his doom. 

When they reached the dance floor the tune was just changing, a slow acoustic volta taking the place of a lively jig as couples flooded the space. Jon had no idea what to do, he wouldn’t have even registered the song’s beginning if Daenerys hadn’t placed his hand at her waist and taken the lead. 

The fabric of her red dress spun around them in a blur and his feet remarkably kept pace, looking to the others discreetly for cues and spinning the woman in his arms accordingly. She was like magic Jon decided, exuding some sort of effervescent beauty as she laughed and twirled, her purple eyes meeting his every time his hand took hold of her waist. 

It was heady and intoxicating and nothing like any dance he had ever experienced. As the guitarist’s strums increased in speed Jon couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh, the sight of Daenerys’s wide smile and elegant movements enough to make him feel, that for a moment, he was the luckiest man in the world.

When the song reached its end she grabbed his hand, heading towards the steps of the masquerade and Jon tried to mask his disappointment when the next song started without them. It vanished however when she ran ahead, clambering atop an ivy covered retaining wall outside the villa and turning to smile at him. 

The moonlight gave her face an ethereal sheen, her silver hair escaping it’s hairdo in wavy tendrils and her cheeks still flushed from their dance. Jon wanted nothing more than to sweep her off the wall and kiss her rose colored lips, untie the filigree mask and reveal all of her, he wanted desperately to _see_ her. Without an assassin’s or dragon’s mask hiding her features from him. 

“You’re not such a bad dancer Jon.”

He climbed atop the wall to sit with her and stared into the night sky, her presence next to him strangely calming. “Most of my family would beg to differ, Robb’s always been the dancer.”

She turned to face him and he was startled by the disappearance of her mask, a small smattering of freckles and an elegant nose now accompanying her eyes and mouth. He was enthralled by how open her expression was now, the soft face of a young woman greeting him instead of the witty assassin he’d grown used to over the short time they’d known one another. 

“Don’t be so humble. I quite enjoyed it… best time I’ve ever had at one of these things.”

Jon was enchanted by her, his breath catching as he responded softly. “Me too.”

She stayed silent, eyes watching him almost expectant and he realized with a start he was still wearing his own wolfish mask. He reached for the silk tie slowly, his fingers fumbling for a moment before he removed it and watching curiously as her eyes widened slightly. Daenerys had already seen his face on the rooftop, but to Jon she looked as enraptured as he was.

And was it his imagination or was she looking at his lips? Her face was much closer than was proper he noted, a heady perfume of spices reaching his nostrils as she leaned in. Jon closed his eyes and raised a hand to her bare neck, his fingertips tingling as they brushed across her skin and he sighed her name into the night air.

“Daenerys…”

She paused in her progression forward and their eyes met, a clash of lavender and grey as her mouth quirked in a small smile and she spoke softly. “I quite like your nickname for me Jon Stark… Dany, was it?”

His hand buried itself in her hair and he tilted her head back slightly, the soft locks slipping through his fingers as she leaned ever closer. 

“Dany…”

The night air was sweet and her name felt so right on his tongue, her lips so close to his he screwed both his eyes shut, hoping that she wouldn’t suddenly change her mind. But it didn’t seem likely, her breath was hot against his mouth now her lips brushing his-

“Jon you idiot where are you-” 

_Damn Arya to the seven hells._

His sister stood a little ways away from them, her grey eyes widening at the sight of him with Dany.

“Oh! Um my apologies Lady Targaryen…”

When Daenerys carefully extracted herself from his arms and leapt from the retaining wall Jon couldn’t suppress his groan of disappointment, directing a glare in his sister’s direction. Arya didn’t seem to care at all however for she merely grinned in Dany’s direction, giving the Targaryen heiress a not so subtle wink and strutting off, pausing to yell at him from over her shoulder. 

“Jon if you don’t get your arse in the carriage in the next five minutes _madre_ says you’re walking home!”

He growled in his sister’s direction cursing her under his breath until he heard bright laughter coming from behind him. 

Daenerys was still there, her dress slipping down one shoulder as she laughed at him. The sound was so unladylike Jon had to add it to the growing list of things he liked about Daenerys Targaryen. Before he could tell her so though she calmed, her cheeks still flushed pink with wine and amusement as she gave a small wave goodbye. 

“We’ll see eachother soon Jon Stark.”

And then she was gone in a swirl of red fabric, back down the steps and disappearing into the depths of the masquerade. Only when Jon took one last look at the moonlit courtyard did he notice the assassin had forgotten her mask.

 **…**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Remember to come say hello to me & nis on tumblr, I’m @lilacs-with-lavender and she’s @darkknightandco
> 
> You know how much I enjoy feedback, so leave a comment below if you enjoyed <3
> 
> Translations  
> ••••••••••••••••••  
> Che bellezza ~ How beautiful  
> Grazie ~ Thank you  
> Merda ~ Shit  
> Draghessa ~ Dragoness  
> Bellissimo ~ Beautiful  
> Tempesta ~ Storm  
> Mio caro ~ My dear  
> Fratello ~ Brother  
> Madre ~ Mother


End file.
